


Armistice

by djsoliloquy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Blood, M/M, Sharing Body Heat, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 19:03:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djsoliloquy/pseuds/djsoliloquy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stop moving,” Jean grunts and shoves his hands under Eren’s shirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Armistice

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Stel, who prompted for Shadis punishing the boys for fighting by making them sleep outside in the cold, which obviously leads to more fighting but also the need to say warm.
> 
> Inspired by [THIS NEAT ART](http://insomniatakesover.tumblr.com/post/55769759658/marcobutt-desultoryjester-said-i-did-once) by the lovely insomniatakesover! ♥ Definitely go check that out.

Jean’s top lip itches as blood from his nose works its way down. He’s on his back so it’s more like an ooze than a drip, slow and irritating. When Eren rolls on top of him and swings a fist into his side, it’s almost not too bad. The _on top of Jean_ part, that’s closer to downright fantastic. In six hours this is the closest Jean’s got to being—maybe not warm, but less cold.

Without cloud cover, the temperature outside plummeted after sundown. It’s been a long time since sundown. Jean feels the punch to his side and doesn’t care much one way or the other, it’s worth it just to be up and moving. His whole body is tense, braced against the cold and the fits of wracking shivers. The pain comes from far away. Maybe Eren just didn’t hit him very hard. It doesn’t matter. _That_ pain isn’t important. The only thing that matters anymore is the cold and stopping Eren from rolling off of him again.

“Stop moving,” Jean grunts and shoves his hands under Eren’s shirt.

Eren makes a sound like he’s the one who was punched. “ _Jean_.” His grimace twists the cut on his lip in an ugly way. He’s actually not as warm under his clothes as Jean was hoping, nothing but sharp rigid lines of muscle bent over Jean, tensed from the cold in all the same ways. Eren gasps for a moment, like he’s been shoved under ice water. “You can’t even—for one night—”

Their breath steams in the air between them. Jean stares at Eren’s mouth like it’s important. He knows there’s something significant there, something he should care about, but he can’t _think_. It’s just _there_ and he doesn’t know what it is yet.

Eren yanks Jean’s hands out of his shirt and pins them to the ground. “I can’t believe this,” he says. “I can’t believe I have to sit out here with you.”

Jean clenches his fists to shield his fingers from the air. “If you—look, if we start sweating then we’re screwed.” The cold is a deep pervasive agony, everywhere but where Eren is touching him. It’s hard to worry about anything besides that right now. “I mean, if you want to crawl off and become an Erencicle, go ahead, fine with me,” he says, not begging but it shoots a weird dangerous something down his spine. He plants his feet on the ground and shoves against Eren, adding, “Come on, your hands are cold.”

“Wouldn’t that be moving?” Eren narrows his eyes but lets go of Jean’s wrists.

Then he hunches over and wraps his hands around Jean’s neck.

Jean hisses and tucks his chin down, stooping his shoulders to escape the grip. His glimmer of fear changes to annoyance almost at once. Eren’s hands are firm but not constricting and dammit Jean should have thought of the neck first. That would have been way warmer than under Eren’s shirt. 

And Eren’s fingers are taking their sweet time warming up. “Asshole,” Jean says, shuddering. He glares and curls his hands under Eren’s clothes again, over his stomach this time because that’s probably better, down between them in the pocket of less-cold air.

That’s almost not too bad either. Eren squeezes in close, thighs on either side of Jean’s hips. They wrestle with each other, rough tiny movements, panting and shivering as they struggle to get closer. Jean can feel the small icy point of Eren’s nose against his neck, Eren’s breath on his collar.

—his breath is warm. The full concept trickles into Jean’s head in pieces. He tries to stare at Eren’s mouth again. Of course his breath is warm, Jean’s breath is warm too, that’s why he’s been puffing against his fingers to keep them from freezing all night…

Eren frowns. “Hey,” he says, eyes tracking to Jean’s mouth.

Leaning in. “What?” Jean says.

“Don’t move,” Eren says finally, and Jean has his lips parted for him before Eren can even press their mouths together.

This is better than warm. Hot. Jean gets a rush of tingling all over. He hopes with all his might he didn’t just break out in an excited sweat.

After sitting in the cold all night neither of them are exactly brimming with personal body heat, but having Eren on him is better than nothing. It’s a lot better than nothing. Eren rubs his hands from Jean’s neck to his chest and then back again, making a little route of it, and Jean does the same under Eren’s shirt. Friction is good. Friction is _warm_. And so are tongues. It’s gross because of the blood from Jean’s nose and Eren’s cut lip, but the inside of Eren’s mouth is like  _fire_  and it is the best thing. It is the actual best thing. 

Jean can’t express it with someone else’s lips in the way, which is probably fortunate. Incoherent thoughts filter through the cold-delirium, strange raving notions, like he wants to crawl past Eren’s teeth and slide between the cheek and molar and never be cold again. Like he wishes he’d been kissing Eren hours ago. Like he wishes he could kiss Eren for hours more.

He must nip Eren’s cut lip on accident. Eren jerks away, nailing Jean’s nose as he moves. They hiss and wince and make faces. Eren sits back and wipes his mouth on his sleeve. There are pink watery stains on his teeth, and some of that blood is Jean’s.

“You’re gross,” Jean says. He means the taste. He runs his tongue around the inside of his mouth and swallows, though.

Eren lets out a short laugh, surprising them both. “Yeah,” he says. They still have a while until sunrise. Eren licks his bottom lip and leans back over Jean. “You’re gross, too.”

 

 

It doesn’t even register as warmth at first, just a pervasive sense of relief. His body is relaxed, muscles no longer forced rigid from cold. He’s sore all over. Soft morning light makes the inside of his eyelids burn golden pink. They made it.

And they must have snuck in an hour or two of sleep. Hence the involved positions of their limbs around each other, which Jean is at a loss to explain to himself.

It’s warm, though.

His face sticks to Eren when he tries to sit up, blood from his nose and a scrape on his cheek dried fast to Eren’s shirt. But Jean is tired and sore and covered in warmth. Eren is warm underneath him, a solid regular roar of lungs and heartbeat in one of Jean's ears. He thinks _fuck it_ and drops his head back to Eren’s chest.

Eren stirs with a quiet groan. Hopefully feeling all his bruises too. Then, “Is that… why is my shirt wet?”

The door to the barracks unbolts. Jean’s eyes snap open. He hears heavy footsteps somewhere over his head, some mildly amused but friendly chuckles as trainees pass by. After one deep snort: “Hey, Jean, finally get that good night’s sleep?”

“I—no! Didyou, Reiner? Ow.” Jean tries to look around and gets pulled back by Eren’s shirt with a twinge of pain. “That’s not funny.”

 “Is this drool?” Eren pats his shirt and Jean’s face. He starts sitting up and Jean _ow ow ow_ ’s and tries to move with him. “Is this _all_ drool? You jerk, you actually drooled on me?”

“Oh,” says Marco’s voice, passing through. “Huh. Wow.”

Jean’s face goes stiff. “Don’t look,” he says to the world at large, and then at Eren, “Knock it off. Stop moving! You’re going to take half my face with you if— _ow!_ ”

“Yeah, it’s not funny, Reiner,” Connie laughs on his way out of the barracks. “It’s hilarious. Anyone know if the girls are up yet? I gotta go tell this to Sasha.”


End file.
